Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

Fear takes hold of me in a vise-like grip,

Air is stolen from my lungs; precious bubbles of oxygen,

My heart beats violently against my rib cage,

Why fight to live, when submission to death is bliss?


This pain is real, it’s tangible,

I can almost reach out and touch this Angel of Death,

Bright white spots blur my vision,

My sanity slips little by little.


Weakness? No. This control gives me strength,

Just the fact that I hold precious life in the palm of my hands,

And that with a flick of my fingers I can take it,

Control. Power. Strength.